


To youth and liberty

by Lexigent



Category: Hamlet - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:55:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29908332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexigent/pseuds/Lexigent
Summary: Three teenagers. Summer break. Juvenile shenanigans.
Relationships: Guildenstern/Hamlet/Rosencrantz (Hamlet)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3
Collections: Stage of Fools 2020





	To youth and liberty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Small_Hobbit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/gifts).



"Watch your footwork, Denmark!" The coach's voice echoes in the school gym. It's filled with the sounds and smells of young people exercising, and underneath that, that smell all school gyms have, of leather soaked in generations of hand sweat and chalk powder and dust on rubber matting. Hamlet trips over his own feet, catches himself, restarts, He's sparring with Rosie, who's just holding out punching pads in front of her body for him to punch his anger, frustration, sadness - every negative feeling - into. His breathing is heavy at this point of the training session - and he finds himself laughing in spite of it all. Kickboxing is the place where he feels most alive, most connected with his body. He watches Gil out of the corner of his eye as he sees Rosie's eyes wander in their direction. Hamlet doesn't believe Gil likes kickboxing, but he's very willing to believe they love being around Rosie. 

The whole who-fancies-who thing doesn't so much confuse Hamlet as get on his nerves. He just doesn't see the point. Why marry and have a child if you're just going to leave him at boarding school for nine months of the year? And then, this year, book him in for the whole summer as well - not because of his grades, but because they couldn't possibly have him home with the restructuring of the company and... he'd stopped listening after his mother's first few words.

"Change of partners", the coach yells and blows his whistle, the sound shrill in Hamlet's ears. His momentum from a swing he takes at a punching pad that's no longer there carries him forward against an unsuspecting Rosie who is, fortunately, quick of reflex and manages to catch him. He coughs and straightens, nods and says "thanks" under his breath. She's saved him from a humiliating fall. The touch of her skin lingers on his like an aftertaste around his shoulders. They both grin awkwardly. "Good job you're so tiny," Rosie says. He nods. "Smol H," he says as he turns around. They face their new partners and repeat.

Hamlet's the first out of the gym, heading for his room and the comfort and privacy of his bathroom. There are communal showers at the gym, but he's started avoiding them.

The room is quiet as he enters. One of the small mercies of summer school is having the room to himself since his roommate is currently exploring Europe on trains. He's sent Hamlet a postcard of the Sagrada Familia that's now on the back of the door. It catches Hamlet's eye on his way in. Unwittingly he thinks about how hot it must be there, and how uncomfortable that would be for him, and hates that that is his first thought now. Two years ago, his first association with "Spain" was having fun on beaches.

He get out of his kit, right down to the binder that's stuck to his skin from the gym session. It's no joke exercising in this heat - for him more so than for most.

Fifteen minutes later, in a clean shirt, he finds Rosie and Gil behind the gym. Gil is smoking and Rosie is drinking something from a thermos flask that is, he would venture, probably not tea. Another boon of summer school: adult supervision that's a lot laxer than during the actual term. Summer school locums don't really care two jots about enforcing behaviour rules, and being only a few years out of sixth form, probably can think of better things to do with their summers anyway.

They're stretched out on a picnic blanket and trying a bit too hard not to look at or touch each other. Hamlet runs a hand through his damp hair a bit self-consciously as he walks up to them and sees how the sun catches in Rosie's long chestnut locks. His gaze drifts towards Gil, who has leaned back their head as they make a show of enjoying the cigarette.

"Give us a drag", he says, doing his best to use the lowest voice register he has. Gil looks up, tucks a loose strand of hair behind their ear. There's a spark in their eye as they stretch out their hand and give the cigarette to Hamlet. Hamlet takes it and sits down in one fluid motion, right in the space between Gil and Rosie that they both somehow make feel weighty in its emptiness. Rosie flinches - almost - but catches herself quietly and converts the urge to move into a quick twist of her lip.

Hamlet takes a drag, closes his eyes, turns his face toward the sun. He holds the cigarette out in Gil's direction, slowly letting out the smoke through his mouth and nose.  
"You're so tiny," Rosie giggles. It's the overheated amusement of someone who's indulging in forbidden things, though whether that's the alcohol, the cigarette, or the company of Gil and Hamlet, is anyone's guess. "To think that one day, you'll own this place." 

"I'll tell the story of my underage drinking escapades brilliantly," he says and lets his head fall backwards, then turns his eyes towards Rosie. There's not just a spark of energy there between Rosie and Gil, there's something already burning, and Hamlet feels set alight.

"They really fancy you, you know," he says before he can think better of it. He makes a show of shifting into a better position on the blanket while Rosie and Gil exchange a look.

"Everyone fancies you, Rosie, " he adds, head upright again. "Everyone." He closes his eyes and soaks up the feeling for a moment. Rosie's lips touch his just as his hand brushes Gil's behind him - tentative at first, then Gil responds and laces their fingers together. Hamlet moves their intertwined hands upwards, against his and Rosie's face. Rosie's hand lands on top of them and Hamlet breaks the kiss. They all still for a moment, catching their breaths from what they've just done. Hamlet untangles his fingers fron GIl's, turns around, looks into Gil's eyes. "It's okay, I promise," he says in response to what he sees there, and kisses Gil full on the lips. He's caught between them now, set alight, and happy to see how high the flames will go.

"My roommate's not around," he says, voice low in his throat, and just like that, blanket and contraband are swept up and they find themselves on mattresses of hastily pushed-together beds, fumbling at clothes - their own and each other's - and discovering what lies underneath.

They'll fight in the morning, Hamlet knows that. They'll both cling to each other when he discards them as he must; they'll never believe that he likes them both equally, both having so many reasons for feeling like they'll never be enough. It's all on them, nothing he can say or do will change the course of events, but as Gil's strong hands caress his torso while Rosie kisses the back of his neck, he decides to live in the moment. After all, in his experience, tomorrow has a way of taking care of itself.


End file.
